there is fire in the fuel and someone's world is burning

Her heart is a crumbling stone  
that only beats for one man  
while her body is a butterfly  
flitting into the arms of any man  
that’ll keep her warm for the night  
 
She’s ripped wallpaper  
and heartbroken knuckles  
he’s barbed wire promises
and cemetery dreams  
together they give black eyes  
to car doors
and know how to make  
text messages feel shame  
 
And I have no sympathy  
for the drugs under their fingernails  
or the way they slam doors  
like rage is an art form worth defining  
 
I’ve no sympathy for the brain chemistry  
they bricked up in the basement  
like it was something dirty to hide  
 
Her lips no longer form words  
they simply form pain that looks like suicide walking  
his hands no longer wear the skin of who he is  
they just paint bloody pictures in burning buildings  
of who he could have been  
if he wasn’t a flame  
that burned everything he touched  
to the ground  
and called it living  
 
© Indie Adams 2014